The Riddle
by GlidingQuill
Summary: A remake of Edger Allen Poe's, The Raven. Voldemort surprises Harry one night when Harry is in no mood to be fooled with.


**The Riddle  
**

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wandered, lost and eerie,

Over many a dark and disturbing volume lying on the floor -

As my head fell, faintly napping, quick-l-y I heard a tapping,

Just like someone merely slapping, stamping on my study floor -

''Tis an apparition, I've conjured, tapping on my dreamy core -

Only this and nothing more.'

Ah, the Order I remember, broke apart by that November;

And each ghost of a dead member wrought its image on my floor.

What has past I see tomorrow; - time is what I need to borrow

To stow this somber sorrow - sorrow for the lost Dumbledore -

To swallow this woeful dagger tipped with pain over Dumbledore -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the creaky, stern; congealing cracks of each inclosing ceiling

Snatched me - trapped me in this chamber so much smaller than before;

So that now, to pend the closure on my mind, I stood assure,

''Tis not an apparition I hear upon my study floor -

Not a ghost my mind conjured I hear upon my study floor; -

This it is and nothing more.'

Quickly my reserve grew stronger; dawning on me then no longer,

'Tom,' said I, 'your common name of which your former title bore.'

As I said this, I was creeping, Oh so softly I was seeping,

To catch where Riddle was keeping - keeping past my study door,

'Death shall find you well!' I threatened. - Here I slammed out through the door -

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Back at me the darkness sneering, as I stood there, soundlessly, fearing,

Searching, scanning for the source of the gaunt sound I heard before;

But the silence came unaltered, and the darkness never faltered,

And the only word there muttered was my anxious word, 'Dumbledore?'

This I questioned, and the darkness murmured back the word 'Dumbledore!' -

Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into my chamber turning, all my nerves within me churning,

Soon once more I heard a rapping, faintly harder than before.

'Likely,' said I, 'Likely 'tis something beyond my darkened curtain;

Let me see, then, to be certain, and this mystery explore -

Let my heart beat slow a minute, and this mystery explore; -

'Just the wind, and nothing more?'

Here I pulled down the tussle, when, with a mighty rap and rustle,

In there stepped a grotesque mutant transformed by the murky moor;

Not a little remark made he, not a trace of fear flashed on thee;

And, just sneering at me coldly, peered straight into my mind's core -

Peered on my haunted remembrance stamped with flame on my mind's core -

Peered, and stared, and nothing more.

Then, this dark Riddle began filing his crooked frown into smiling,

His stature growing serpentine with the stretched features he bore,

'Though thy face shows lies and little, thou," I said, 'does worse to meddle,

Boastful, bare and vile Riddle, in business inside my study door -

Say what business have you before I cast thee to hell's flamed filled shore!'

Quote the Riddle, 'Dumbledore.'

Much I studied this mutated wizard speaking words calm and weighted,

Though his answer gave no meaning - no clue to what he came for;

For we cannot help agreeing that since he had ceased his being

We're not yet blessed with seeing why he brings this name in my door -

Live or dead why he brings this topic within my study door,

Why question for Dumbledore?

But the Riddle, stood politely at my wardrobe, speaking lightly

Of this man, which he hath killed in tidings of this deadly war.

Nothing further than he uttered - not a sorrow thought he stuttered -

'Till I slightly stood and spluttered, 'Reason you've damned, I implore!

Let thy language speak more than lies! What hope have here, I implore!'

Then came my scream, 'Tell me more!'

Taken by my tales then spoken to comply with muteness broken,

'Funny,' said he, 'thy expression is twice angered than before

On word of your holy master who met his deadly disaster

Your temper rises quick and faster 'till your heart one thought in store -

'Till you vocals grow weak and dry from shouting this thought in store

Just over Dumbledore?'

And this Riddle still stood filing his crooked frown into smiling,

As he gazed with scarlet eyes burning on my inner mind's core;

Then, upon my armchair sinking, I betook myself to linking

Ideas to questions, thinking what this treacherous wretch of war -

What this snide, unsightly, slimy, sallow, treacherous wretch of war

Meant in affronting Dumbledore.

Then with hand to head pressing, but no single thought progressing

I sat and stared, at the Riddle and studied his true thoughts decor;

This and more I sat divining, with my shape and weight defining

The soft armchair's satin lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,

On the satin silver lining which the lamplight gloated o'er,

To not stir, was but a chore.

Then, I felt, my thoughts grew malice, shadowed by my face so callous

'Till my rage burned and boiled and through my lips it did outpour.

'Wretch,' I cried, 'you will not fool me - no strong rhetoric will cool me

Until you take hand and duel me so second lies dead on the floor;

Here, and now sit up and duel me, 'till victor walks out the door!'

Quote the Riddle, 'What a bore.'

'Riddle!' said I, 'moonlit coward - come the dark, from which you powered!

Whether purpose sent, or whether chance has tossed thee in my door.

Desolate, but still undaunted, with your dim imprudence flaunted –

In this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore –

What are - what are you here for? - tell me - tell me I implore!"

Quote the Riddle, "Your death and more."

"Riddle!" said I, "degenerate fiend - on that word, no panic convened!

Your tired, tattered threats mean nothing - to one who can loose no more –

My courage you will not frighten, no, my face will never whiten,

You are just a corrupt titan, who calls himself Voldemort –

Just a crooked, corrupt titan, who shall die forevermore."

Quote the Riddle, "Talk no more!"

'Be that word our sign of parting, ghastly fiend!' I shrieked, upstarting –

'Get thee back to thy fateful tomb and fall with the wicked war!

Let this be a sinful token of the law thy soul hath broken!

Leave my loneliness unspoken! - too horrific to ignore!

Take this curse to die in gloom, and crumple to my feet and floor!

Meet your death; and live no more!'

_'Avada Kadavra!'_

_And the Riddle, ever sinning, still is grinning, still is grinning _

_As the serpent stream of green came with a silent smothered roar; _

_And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, _

_And the lamplight o'er him gleaming shows his fall towards the floor; _

_And the soul from out his figure lying floating on the floor _

_Shall be gone - forevermore! _


End file.
